The siren calls, the tempting song
laced with honey sweet poison.
Her eyes, alone, draw men close,
only to make them fall.
They break their ships upon her shores,
smash into her rocks, break their bones.
And still, though countless fade, many more return,
in order to trap her addictive song.
To have and hold, this siren, who sleeps beneath the waves,
they would destroy the world, turn themselves to ashes.
To trap the scale maiden, they’d dirty her shores and
pollute her seas, dare awakened the sleeping beast.
All had failed, each unable to claim nor resist
the ocean’s ever singing guardian.
All tumbled into the never ending depths of her sea,
through the dark of her eyes, the coldness of her smile.
Engulfed by a frozen void, a pit that would never fill.
The more they hounded, the more she gave, the so tempting song,
that filled with a moment’s delight.
The more they consumed, the more they drowned within her song,
never thinking of their far away homes.
Little do they know that it they who are are hounded and herded,
lured into a watery pen. A grave with no stone.
Her song lures not all, for not all can hear her.
But they do feel her presence, ever watching, ever guarding.
For she is the guardian of the seas and oceans.
She rules over the waters and its creatures.
Her songs are not for sailors or visitors,
but for her waters, to lull them to sleep.
For the song last only two lines,
“All life, this siren takes, those foolish to follow.
All life, who dares harm her sea, shall she swallow”